151: Fan Jin's Success in the Imperial Examination

On the massive LED screen.

The two large characters for “Auspicious Event,” like two burning flames, quietly floated in mid-air.

The venue, which had been deathly silent, held an atmosphere so tense it felt like a string about to snap,

seemed to relax instantly.

A wave of extremely faint exhales spread through the examination hall like a tide.

“That's great! This is simple!”

A boy in the front row pushed up his glasses.

His tightly furrowed brow smoothed out, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly in an uncontrollable smile.

It wasn't just him; throughout the entire examination hall,

the vast majority of candidates showed the relief of having survived a catastrophe.

Auspicious Event.

This was the most conventional topic, the least likely to lead to errors, and the one with the most stock material available.

Compared to those obscure and confusing strange topics, Auspicious Event was practically a freebie.

Writing about success in the imperial examination, or about family reunions,

or at the very least, writing about Timely Rain After a Long Drought—as long as the writing wasn't poor,

one could generally secure a stable score.

Zhang Ya also visibly sighed in relief at this moment.

She quickly unscrewed her cup, took a sip of water, and slightly calmed the tension she felt before the topic was announced.

She had practiced this kind of topic no less than ten times.

She could write two pages of flowery parallel sentences in one go.

Even Li Bowen, who always insisted on rigid logic,

was now rapidly listing out an outline on his scratch paper,

likely thinking of some major “Auspicious Event” like a technological breakthrough benefiting humanity.

The atmosphere of the entire Grand Theater, which had been severe Moments ago,

became somewhat... festive due to “Auspicious Event.”

Only Lin Que remained still.

He leaned back in his chair, the black gel pen in his hand spinning deftly between his long fingers,

before finally being pressed down onto the desk with a 'snap.'

He looked at the small print on the screen explaining the “Four Great Joys of Life.”

There was no joy in his eyes; instead, there was a hint of coldness.

“Auspicious Event...”

Lin Que chewed on these two words in his mind.

It was too simple.

So simple it felt like a carefully packaged trap.

In this age of entertainment to death, people loved hearing about happy events too much.

Short videos were full of beautiful lives under filters,

Moments were full of retouched travel photos, and trending topics were all about celebrity weddings and feasts of the wealthy.

Everyone desperately showcased their “joy,”

as if the “sorrow” hidden in the gutters wouldn't exist if they just laughed loudly enough.

Lin Que's gaze passed through the bobbing heads in front of him.

His sight didn't seem to focus on the examination hall but drifted toward a more distant place.

He recalled the girl mentioned in the newspaper snippet that day, who borrowed millions to become beautiful.

When she signed that usurious loan contract,

when she looked at the perfect face in the mirror—a result of the medication—

she must have also thought it was the greatest “Auspicious Event” of her life, right?

That ecstasy of about to cross class boundaries and become the center of attention,

made her ignore the abyss that had already opened its bloody maw behind her.

And these candidates before him.

These three thousand-plus top students who had fought their way out of various high schools in Jiang City,

were sitting here now, striving for the ticket to a prestigious university,

striving for the so-called “success in the imperial examination.”

If they passed, it was an Auspicious Event.

What if they didn't pass?

Or rather, what if they did pass,

but found that it was just the beginning of another round of involution? Would this so-called “joy,”

turn into an obsession that would drive them mad?

“True tragedy often appears wearing the cloak of comedy.”

Lin Que's fingers gently tapped the desktop, producing a series of muffled sounds.

If he followed the mainstream,

writing a flowery article praising achievements, it wouldn't be difficult for him to get a high score and advance to the semi-finals with his writing skill.

But that was too boring.

Since it was Fu Zhi Yao Competition, and since the goal was to “Soar Up Ninety Thousand Miles on a Whirlwind,”

he couldn't fight others for scraps in the mud pit.

If he was going to do something, he would be the one to flip the table.

Lin Que closed his eyes, and the bookshelf in his mind began to spin rapidly.

He needed a story.

A story that could deconstruct the two words “Auspicious Event” until they were shattered,

a story that could ruthlessly satirize this kind of “joy” built upon fame and fortune.

*The True Story of Ah Q*?

*Kong Yiji*?

No.

He didn't need a cry of universal compassion, nor did he need the numb pleasure derived from suffering.

He needed an extreme absurdity, a madness performed amidst the clamor of gongs and drums.

What kind of story should that be?

A scene gradually became clear in his mind:

countless fawning smiles, surrounding a disheveled, mud-covered person like stars surrounding the moon.

That person clapped his hands, weeping and laughing amidst the flying gifts and compliments... A name, a great work that had gathered dust in this world, violently slammed into his consciousness.

*The Scholars*.

And in that book, there was a story,

which was practically tailor-made for today's topic.

An Old Scholar who had taken the examinations for half his life, until his beard turned white and his family was too poor to buy food.

Amid countless instances of ridicule, cold looks, and abuse, suddenly one day, he passed.

That was a massive Auspicious Event.

But this happy event was too great, so great that his long-suppressed and distorted heart simply couldn't bear it.

And so, he went mad.

Amid the compliments of the crowd, disheveled and covered in mud, he clapped his hands and laughed loudly:

“Hee! Good! I passed!”

Condensing a person's entire life into the explosive moment of “Passing the Examination.”

This was the highest form of satire.

Using a seemingly absurd “madness” to tear open the man-eating essence of the entire feudal system,

and also tear open the ugly faces of those sycophantic opportunists around him.

This is it.

Lin Que had an idea.

However, he couldn't copy it exactly.

*The Scholars* was written in classical vernacular Chinese, which could be understood in this world,

but some contexts and official titles needed slight adjustments to better fit this world's vague perception of ancient times,

while also strengthening the dramatic conflict.

What he wanted to write was not just about a madman.

He wanted to write about all the souls in this world twisted by their efforts to succeed.

Lin Que took a deep breath and raised his pen.

The examination hall was very quiet, with only the rustling sound of pen nibs crossing paper, like silkworms feeding on mulberry leaves.

Most candidates were writing about “sunshine covering the earth” or “sweat watering the flowers.”

The corner of Lin Que's mouth curved into a faint arc.

In the title box, he neatly wrote four characters:

*fan jin passes the imperial examination*.

The title was vulgar, utterly commonplace.

But the first line of the main text exploded on the paper like a clap of thunder.

There was no environmental description, no emotional build-up.

He threw the most satirical, most clamorous, and most absurd scene directly into the judges' faces.

Lin Que wrote with bold, sweeping strokes, penning the opening of that classic story:

[Fan Jin didn't look at it at first, but then he looked at it once, and read it again.

He clapped his hands together, laughed, and cried out:

“Hee!

I passed!

I passed!”]

...